


A secret or two

by AggressivelyAmmoral_094 (LouEve_094)



Category: Animal Farm - George Orwell
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27242218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouEve_094/pseuds/AggressivelyAmmoral_094
Summary: Squealer and Snowball get it on, and a drunk Napoleon wants to join.
Relationships: Benjamin/Clover (Animal Farm), Napoleon/Snowball (Animal Farm), Napoleon/Squealer (Animal Farm), Squealer/Snowball (Animal Farm)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	A secret or two

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this quite a few years ago, at an age that will remain undisclosed. There was a task in a class I had about writing an alternate ending to Animal Farm, and while many chose horror or comedy I decided to choose romance. 
> 
> So, I guess, enjoy?

The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.

The door opened, and Napoleon stood framed in the dim kitchen light. He was as drunk as any other, and twice as tipsy. Swaying frantically, he slurred, “Bring me the barrels, more beer, more SPIRITS!” 

The animals were horrified. What had their leader become? What had the humans turned him into? Squealer fell from the terrified crowds, loyal forever to his leader. 

“I’ll fetch the barrels, Comrade Napoleon.” 

Napoleon’s eyes fell upon Squealer, and for a second he felt an odd stirring in his abdomen. Why was he so turned on? While he was not straight, something certainly was. 

Everybody saw it, and their eyes widened to dinner plates. Everybody except Squealer. He ran to the barley field, ran to the place where the smells of cooking barley came from. He rolled the barrels, rolled them twice as fast, twice as hard. 

He got to the door, but walked no further. Snowball was there, Snowball was hotter than ever. 

“Where have you been for the past year?” Worry tinged the edges of Squealer’s voice. 

“I’m sorry, Squealer. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Give me a chance for redemption.” 

Squealer looked at Snowball with fire in his eyes, “You know what I want babe.” 

And then, with the moon high in the sky, the drunken party just background noise, Snowball gave Squealer the best night of his life. They did not bother to conceal their grunts and groans, hidden behind the barrels of barley. 

But time was lost track of, Napoleon forgotten. His drunken hooves beat the ground between the farmhouse and the shed, forever growing more sober, but ever more horny. 

The door was yet again thrown open, shedding moonlight into the darkened room. 

“Where is the beer?” His booming voice jarred the fluid motions of the pigs, hidden behind the barrels of barley. 

“Is that Napoleon?” Snowballs breathless whisper tickled the inside of Squealer’s ear. 

Squealer shook it off and continued to make the most of Snowball’s fleeting presence. 

“Is that Napoleon?” Snowball repeated, growing more breathless in the tight space. 

Squealer could ignore him no longer, and sighing into the air Snowball breathed, he agreed, “Yes, should we invite him?” 

Snowball’s eyes lit up with pleasure, “I’ve always liked an adventurous pig.” 

Napoleon had heard them, and he was livid with unquenchable anger. 

“Why did you not tell me? I have missed you, Snowball. I’m sorry for chasing you out. I… I had to do it. Please believe me, I had to do it, for the farm.”

The barrels of barley and alcohol were forgotten, the party was forgotten, the people of neighbouring farms were forgotten. Tension was high in the barley shed, as Napoleon and Snowball stared each other down. 

Squealer started to put his clothes back on, but Snowball waved at him to stop. It seemed that no one would re-enter the moon-bathed night, not tonight. 

Soon it could be heard of the farmers leaving, not at all concerned at where there host had gone. Indeed, Napoleon was not at all fit for public sight. High off the alcohol rich air of the barley shed, the pigs were… well… none of them were fit for public sight, clothes littered the ground. 

The farmers left the farm, drunk and high, and laughing and fighting. The other animals watched them go and turned their heads towards the barley shed, intrigued. Why was their Leader Comrade Napoleon taking so long? Where was Squealer?

Benjamin turned his knowing eyes towards the barley shed, he knew. He had always known. Clover looked at him, her eyes cloudy, sight partially lost, “Benjamin, what’s happening?” 

The barn was dark and loomed in the night, the animals had waited enough. They had seen too much that night. But even, from where they all lay, the chickens were unsettled, the sheeps baaad fitfully, and the thoughts boiled in their minds. What was that  _ thing _ they had seen at the farmhouse? Had Napoleon been… turned on? 

No. It wasn’t possible, thought Clover, Napoleon wasn’t... he wasn’t… was he gay? No. She brushed off the troublesome thoughts and nuzzled her gentle head into Benjamin’s neck. 

But she was wrong. Even though the night gleamed bright with moonlight, the barley shed was dark with naughty intentions. Barley seeds spilled everywhere, pooling in the crevices of forgotten clothes. Yet the seeds did nothing to ease, or  _ slow _ the hurried pleasure the three pigs were experiencing. They merely provided extra satisfaction and pleasure as hurried motions became smooth and steady, a rhythm that beat to a horny drum. 

Napoleon demanded dominance, as he always had done. And Snowball complied, though his mind was much dirtier than his white hide. And Squealer, well… Squealer was adventurous, he liked to experiment with himself and with the others.

But the night did not last forever, unfortunately. As the waning sky turned soft pink, the three lovers did all they could to make the barley shed right again, covering up their little adventure. 

And when the animals awoke, they only had slivers of questions in the backs of their minds, and the pigs were, if anything, satisfied and  _ pleased _ . They had gotten away with it this time, though barely. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for letting your eyes read that, 
> 
> I want to apologise if any of you have experienced spiritual damage – unfortunately the only consolation I can give you is that, I'm never going to upload another chapter (probably) 
> 
> Anyways, drop a comment of your thoughts! 
> 
> AA.


End file.
